


If It's Not Too Much

by A_Gentle_Lurker



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Gentle_Lurker/pseuds/A_Gentle_Lurker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey doesn't get married.  Instead, he does what he usually does and hurts people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It's Not Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had to write this to make myself feel better about last nights episode. Because, honestly, it broke me.

He noticed it sometimes when Ian would laughed loud and full, mouth open wide. Or, when he was tired from work and yawned real big. Just there, on the bottom left side of his mouth, three teeth from the center. The small gap where his canine would have been. It didn't happen often, and if you weren't looking you'd miss it. But Mickey knew. And every fucking time it was a punch to the gut. A sure fire way to kill whatever good mood he might be in.   
They’d been through their share of shit at the time. It had been the worst point in Mickey's shitty life. Maybe Ian's too, but he never asked. He never did marry that bitch, but it had been a close thing. So close that it still freaked him out whenever he allowed himself to think about it. It was the difference between shitting all over the semblance of happiness he had built with Ian, and diving head first into something that may very well destroy him. He chose the latter.  
It hadn't been the punches he had thrown at him, or even the vicious kick to the jaw that had woken Mickey up. He knew he loved Ian, wanted nothing more that to have the kid beat the shit out of him just so he could feel some sort of connection. No, it had been his fucking sister of all people. He was literally minutes away from saying the joke of a vow when Mandy stormed in, pissed as all hell, and probably a little drunk and high, and full out punched Mickey in the face. She ranted about how there was no way in hell she was gonna let Mickey fuck up his life, no fucking way because even though he was a pretty big fuck-up he was still decent and could still do something worthwhile in his life before he eventually got locked up for good. The few people that were present snickered and laughed because honestly, what the hell else were they expecting from a Milkovich wedding. The whole thing was nothing but a goddamn sideshow anyway.   
Terry had gotten in a few words to Mandy before she snapped. He left with a black eye and a threat that if he ever interfered with her or Mickey's life again she'd tell the police about all the drugs and unregistered guns he had laying around the house. That and a few other things Mickey didn't really pick up on and wasn't sure he wanted to.   
Once they were clear of the group and his fiancé, or whatever she was, left staring confusedly after them, Mandy kicked him hard in the shin. She went on and on about how her best friend was a wreck and constantly drunk or worse and skipping school. It was on the tip of Mickey's tongue, the why should I give a shit about your little fake boyfriend, but she cut him off. Told him that Ian had told her about them, she'd gotten it out of him after a particularly bad fight. Mickey hadn't known who he was more pissed at, Ian for spilling the beans, or Mandy for calling him out.   
They had gone somewhere quiet after that, and he and Mandy had it out. Threats were thrown, screaming, and some tears on her part. But Mandy was never one to shy away from a fight. Hell, usually she was the one instigating. Mickey knew it was a losing battle, because fuck it if he wasn't tired as shit of the whole thing. He wanted Ian so bad it was painful. He knew Mandy wasn't gonna let him marry the tramp, so there was no point arguing anymore, but he'd be damned if he was gonna admit it. With one final 'fuck you', he was gone.  
Two months. That's how long it took him to figure some shit out, and even then he was still so fucked up that he didn't even want to go home. He knew what would be waiting, a whole bunch of the same shit. But he was broke and more than depressed and hadn't eaten in almost two days. He skipped the front door and jimmied Mandy's window open. She was there, surprisingly, and laid him down and went and got some cold pizza rolls. He may have loved her more in that moment than he'd done his entire life. And that in itself was depressing as shit.  
He showered in the morning, grabbed some cleanish clothes, at least they'd been clean when he'd left, but now smelled a bit musty after sitting in the bottom of his closet for two months. He just stayed in Mandy's room for the rest of the day while she was at school. When she got back she nagged him about not doing anything and he eventually left when it was dark enough that he could wander the streets without fear of being recognized. He wanted no interaction.   
The first few days weren't so bad. His brothers had fucked off to god knows where, Terry hadn't been heard from in weeks, and it was just him and Mandy. They watched tv, got drunk and high, and Mandy even cooked him some chicken and rice his third night home. He wanted to ask if Ian had asked about him, or if she had told Ian he was home, but he didn't. Mandy knew, though, told him the next morning that if he didn't get his shit together and go confront Ian that she'd tie him to his bed and make Ian come over and force them to talk. Knowing her, she'd actually do it.  
He cleaned up, for whatever good it might do, and waited. The school day was longer than he remembered and when the front door opened his heart was like a fucking jack hammer.   
And then there he was. The fucking disaster that had tilted his world and made it so much better all at once. He had no right to look so fucking beautiful.  
"So, Mandy told me you're back." That was all he said. It was all Mickey needed to hear because he'd missed that condescending fucking tone so much that just hearing it made him want to laugh. He didn't though, knew better. He shrugged, Ian rolled his eyes and the conversation that they'd been needing to have for so long took place. Why'd you do this, how could you do that, and Mickey the whole while barely able to hold it together. He wanted to touch and grab and hold and he knew he couldn't. Not yet at least, probably not for a good while.  
"Had to figure some shit out." His lame answer to why he'd left, and even lamer shrug when asked why he didn't call. Ian didn't expect anything more, though. After about an hour and a half, and the longest conversation Mickey could remember ever having with anyone, Ian left. He had turned back one last time to tell Mickey, with no hesitation, that he was really glad he was back. Only when the door was safely and tightly shut did he allow himself to grin like a fucking girl. They'd talked and the world hadn't ended. In fact, it maybe had gotten just a bit better.  
Ian was very tentative at first. He'd come over everyday after school as if he were making sure Mickey was really there. Usually with Mandy, sometimes alone. They didn't touch, didn't talk long, no lingering looks. Just, how's it going, what's new, and the most basic and general shit. Mickey hated it, and loved it.  
One month. One whole fucking blue-balling month before Ian allowed Mickey anywhere within three feet of him. He sat on the couch, house empty, the tv forgotten in the background, and just watched Mickey. About five minutes passed like this, and Mickey hadn't said a word. Ian slowly slid over to him, asked him if he was really back for good, Mickey nodded, and Ian was on him. It wasn't fast or ferocious, it was a slow touch of lips, hands lightly caressing and stroking. Mickey sighed into Ian, letting him lead the way. It was a gradual slip of tongues, an acknowledgement of what was needed. Reaffirming something that was long thought lost and dead. And it was Mickey finding something new.  
That night, between the slide of skin and grasping of sheets and the thrill of rediscovering, Mickey breathed into Ian his promises and apologies, and the gentle taste of 'I love you' lingered on his lips long after the kid had fallen asleep.  
He woke up wrapped in limbs that weren't his, and he swallowed the feeling of panic in the face of the unknown, and kissed the eyelids of the best part of his fucked up life. Ian slowly came awake, yawning wide around a smile and that's when Mickey first noticed it.  
"Where the fuck's your tooth?" He asked, and Ian blushed.  
"Doesn't matter." He mumbled into Mickey's chest. And Mickey's 'like hell it doesn't' still didn't get Ian to spill, so he threatened that whoever did it was gonna get the ass beating of a lifetime, and Ian told him he'd have to give it to himself, and then Mickey realized. In painful detail he remembered the fight. Kicking Ian in the jaw. Fuck.  
"Hey, don't you fucking disappear again." Ian said as he recognized the look of self hatred on Mickey's face. "Not again." And Mickey looked down at him, sleep-soft and hair sticking everywhere and shook his head.  
"I'm fucking here, aint I?" He said, because he's a classy fucker, and Ian smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek because apparently that's something they did now.  
But it still hurts, even now, five years down the line, when they got their own place and Mickey fucking Milkovich has a job and is a contributing member of society. If you asked him, he'd say fuck you, but think that he'd take it back, take back every insult, every little thing he'd ever done to hurt the boy that meant the fucking world to him. If you asked Ian, though, he'd smile and say it's a small price to pay to have his Milkovich resting peacefully in their bed every night.


End file.
